


Dirty Hippies

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Crack, Domestic, Gardens & Gardening, Humor, M/M, Sam and Cain are bun buddies okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A whole week of not killing anyone was pretty goddam exhausting. They weren’t even looking for cases at the moment. Cas and Sam were doing whatever weird domestic experiment thing they were doing, and Cain was surprisingly complacent. He’d even gotten his own room. Exemplary behavior or something. Dean’s not sure what’s happening anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Hippies

They beat the fucking shit out of each other. Broken bones, split skin, bloody shirts, fuck there was straw from the barn floor messed up in Cain’s long hair. They were worse for the wear and although Cain would heal, Dean might actually need some medical attention. The mark on his arm was a violent undertow that kept tugging, it burned under his skin and twitched in his fingers. Only one of them should of walked out of that barn. 

Instead, Sam and Cas pulled them apart. Cas secreted the blade off to some corner of the universe. All Dean had to do was glare - and maybe growl a little - at Crowley and the demon went scampering. When Cas came back, blade-less, Dean and Cain were stuffed into the back of the impala like petulant adolescents while Sam drove them all to the bunker. 

Apparently, this was some sort of demonic intervention. And at first Dean just thought that they meant it for Cain. He was the fucking father of murder, hello. Dean was pretty far off the goddam deep end himself, too, but still, he mostly had a grip on it. It was fine. He only had wet dreams about slaughtering - ok, yeah, not thinking about that. 

They got hauled back, cleaned up, patched up, and put up to bed. Cain was, well he was put in the dungeon but that was a necessary precaution. Even if Dean was pretty damn sure he could break out of anything he wanted to. Dean wasn’t too sure why Cas and Sam had dragged them apart and brought Cain back here. He was too tired to kill anything. He basically had murder blue balls and his arm was numb; he was zonked out the minute Sam put him to bed. 

It didn’t last though. In the middle of the night he woke up with a boner the likes of which he hadn’t seen since his teenage years and a mad itch to lay his fist into something. So he went to the kitchen for a glass of milk. And maybe rummaged around for some cookies too. He thought that everyone would be sleeping, but there was a small splash of light spilling out of the library and he definitely heard soft mumbling.

That had to be Cas and Sam. Dean snuck down the tiled hall on his bare feet, cookie in one hand and glass of milk in the other, listening at the doorway. 

“I don’t know if it’ll work Sam.”

“I’m desperate here.”

“I wish … I wish it could be this simple too.”

“We could just try for a little while. See how long it lasts.”

“I’m not sure if your brother would be cooperative. As for Cain, well - “

“Look, Dean told me when he found Cain at first, he was just hanging out in a cabin watching bees and gardening. He’d been laying low for years. He’s just… had a relapse.”

“His relapse has a very high body count.”

“Yeah. But. Come on Cas. Can’t we just try?”

“All right Sam.” 

Dean felt a creeping sense of unease as he snuck back in to the shadows with his cookies and milk. 

-

It started slow. 

Dean didn’t even know what ‘it’ was. 

Cas cornered him in the kitchen with a bag of big gala apples and asked if he wanted to bake. Hell yeah Dean was always up for some baking in his clean tidy kitchen. They made a flaky crust from scratch, Cas smiling all big with flour streaked in his hair, his deft hands chopping apples finely in no time. Cain joined them at the table, eating fresh apple pie with this ridiculously creamy vanilla bean ice cream Cas had also found scooped on top of it. It was peaceful. Fucking delicious too. Kind of ridiculous.

Dean was still on edge. 

-

It was the middle of the afternoon and he was heading to the shooting range when he heard Sam chatting away in his bedroom. Who would he be talking to in his bedroom? Unless he was talking on the phone, but then who would he be talking to on the phone?

Ok, sure, Dean was a nosy brother but he was used to growing up in the same room as Sam, having all these different rooms made him uncomfortable sometimes. He was just passing by. Maybe he lingered a little at the door and heard a deep voice in there too that was definitely not Sam and not even Cas. Maybe Dean eased the door open a little. 

“Really? You don’t use conditioner?”

“No. It’s a fairly recent invention. At least, as a cheap and easily obtained commodity. There have always been natural ways of softening one’s hair. Using an egg and oil base, I believe you call it mayonnaise now, on a regular basis can keep it manageable.”

Dean peered through the crack. Sam and Cain were sitting on the bed, combing each other’s hair. 

“Man, I usually try and hide my routine from Dean, he would give me no end of it he knew I used an anti-frizz serum. I hope my hair can stay so thick  another twenty years down the road.”

“I’m thousands of years old.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean I don’t think I’m gonna get that old. Barring any curses.”

“Mm. I can teach you my recipe to soften it.” 

“That’d be cool. It won’t make it too flat will it? Sometimes I have to kind of tease it up a little.”

Dean risked pushing the door a little wider. Cain was turned into Sam’s space, slowly sweeping his fingers through Sam's hair. 

“It’s nice. I don’t think you need to work on volume. You know what you might try though?”

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever considered growing a beard?”

-

A whole week of not killing anyone was pretty goddam exhausting. They weren’t even looking for cases at the moment. Cas and Sam were doing whatever weird domestic experiment thing they were doing, and Cain was surprisingly complacent. He’d even gotten his own room. Exemplary behavior or something. Dean’s not sure what’s happening anymore. 

With a bottle of a beer and a book, he headed to the lounge to kick back, maybe catch Sam and tease him about his hair products. But he did not expect what he got. 

Cas and Cain were sitting on the couch together, a bright glossy ‘how to’ book spread out between them, crochet hooks in hand. Cas had light blue yarn on his side that he was quickly working in to neat little rows as he instructed Cain on the basics of crochet. Cain had a deep burgundy yarn as he squinted at the book. 

“Here, twist it around and make a two chain before passing back through and - “ 

“Wait, does it go through this hole or this hole…”

Cas, crochet hook in hand trailing yarn between them, pointed at Cain’s work. “No, through there, yeah flip it a little. I think you’re holding it wrong. Let’s go through the start again.”

Dean was too weirded out to do anything but turn and take his beer to the privacy of his own room. He knew Cas did crochet stuff. The guy had gifted him and Sam with these massive, awesomely cozy afghans that had these crazy color patterns going on. But they were nice. Dean maybe curled up under his in his bedroom to read. 

It was still weird. 

-

Dean wasn’t really sure when Cas had managed to start a small garden in a clearing behind the bunker. He didn’t really know when Sam had stolen the time to take care of said garden on a regular basis. But now he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew how all that produce had been infiltrating his kitchen. 

The bunker had been suspiciously empty and he couldn’t find Cain and Sam braiding each other’s hair or Cas and Cain knitting afghans together anywhere. So he went searching. After a through top to bottom search of the bunker, he was getting honestly a little panicky that something had gone wrong before he decided to just step outside and look around. 

When he surfaced, squinting in to the sunlight - and jesus had he really been holed up for several weeks without even going outside? - he heard activity behind the bunker. Traipsing noisily through the woods, he found the three hippies wielding garden hoes and shovels. They were turning up earth and weeding and plucking fat vegetables out of the ground. 

Cas was wearing a t-shirt. Just a flimsy gray t-shirt that was darkened with sweat and clung to his back, muscles rippling under - oh goddamit. Just. Forget it Dean. He had on jeans too, which was usually weird but when he hung out at the bunker he dressed more casually. These were some of Dean’s favorite jeans on Cas, snug up against his ass and they rode a little low when he kneeled and bent over the garden, thick thighs straining against the denim and - fuck. 

Dean was not standing behind the bushes watching his brother, the father of murder, and the dorky little angel gardening like some kind of fucking creeper. Mostly because they probably heard him coming. He stepped in to the clearing with an appropriate scowl on his face.

That’s when he saw Sam. Who, suspiciously, had stopped shaving and was in that scraggly midway territory between scruff and beard-dom. 

Sam was working in jeans and a tee with his hair pulled back. But oh it wasn’t just in a ponytail. It was actually long enough that he managed to tuck it up on itself into a little bun at the back of his head. There were a few stray bits fallen out and hanging around his face but he was actually wearing a goddam bun.

Wait. Scratch that. It got weirder. When Cain, who was kind of in front of Cas and Dean hadn’t seen him too good, but when he stood up Dean saw he was dressed casually too and his long wavy hair was pulled back in a goddam bun too. 

Sam beamed at him. “Hey, Dean! We’ve got an extra hoe for you if you’d like to help!”

Dean fell down laughing so hard it fucking hurt. 

-

After hauling some fresh vegetables in to the bunker, Sam and Cas mysteriously disappeared and left Dean in the kitchen with Cain to give him some pointers on cooking. Cain arched an eyebrow at all of them, muttering. Dean was pretty sure he knew damn well enough how to feed himself, fuck he ran his own cabin and beehive. Dean shrugged and grunted. Cain helped himself to a beer. They got into an argument about what kind of seasonings should go in to the burger meat and what should be left on top. 

Sam and Cas found them glaring at each other chopping ingredients for burgers and making their own separate dishes. Neither Cas or Sam were man enough to pick a side when the burgers were done. Dean had to admit diced mushrooms and peppers tasted awesome cooked in with the burger meat. He just didn’t have to admit that out loud. 

-

Cain, Sam and Cas got on surprisingly well. 

Dean didn’t feel left out. Of course not. He wasn’t gonna go out and break his back gardening for shit he didn’t even want to eat. 

Still. Sometimes he trailed outside because he knew that’s where they were going to be and maybe he pulled a few weeds. It made Cas smile, and sometimes Cas would scoot over to him, show him what weeds needed to be pulled and what needed to be left in the garden, would guide Dean’s hand down and show him where to grip, would work next to Dean close enough that even with the heat of the sun Dean could feel him there, warm and smelling so good all dirty and sweaty. 

So okay. Maybe he went out and gardened with them a little. Instead of moping inside under fluorescent lights. Maybe he got a little tan and maybe he liked it a little and maybe it wasn’t just that he got to hang out with Cas. 

But there were lines.   
Dean definitely had boundaries. And when he woke up late one day, lazed around for a few hours, decided to track down the hippies in their garden, and found them just sitting around with fresh picked wildflowers in their laps, seated in a circle, braiding flowers in each other’s hair, Dean was fucking out of there. 

Then he was researching witches curses cause this shit right here, what he saw, was definitely not natural. 

-

It was going on three weeks that they’d had Cain over at the bunker. He was about half finished with the afghan he was crocheting, and he actually picked it up pretty fast, it was looking good. He was a chill guy to cook with too, he had good taste in beer. Dean had to admit, Sam’s beard was coming in nice. Cas was tanning and the dark bags under his eyes were gone; he may also be plumping up a little from all of Dean’s cooking but if Dean just liked the extra grip in bed, well then that was just a bonus. 

The weirdness factor was slowly ebbing. But every now and then Dean saw something that made it ratchet back up in to ‘should I be researching curses’ territory. 

He had just finished giving the kitchen a good scrub down, clearing out the fridge and cleaning appliances and organizing shelves, the whole shebang, and decided he needed a shower to wipe off the grime. The door to the bathroom was cracked open so he just shoved in. 

And caught Sam. Perched on the edge of the sink. Legs around Cain’s waist. Hands in his hair. Kissing. Making out. Eating each other’s faces. 

“What the fuck?!”

Cain twisted around, still trapped between Sam’s legs, and Dean noticed Cain’s finger scritching idly into the thick beard growing on Sam’s face. 

Sam at least looked properly scandalized, “Dean!”

“You know, you two just need to take your man-bun wearing, beard growing, hippy love fest to some place private. No making out in communal spaces!”

Cain rolled his eyes. “We are in the bathroom. That’s supposed to be private.”

“You know what, the door wasn’t even closed and no, the bathroom is not private, it is a communal space. And I do not need to be thinking about this next time I’m in here for a shower.”

Sam bitchfaced at him, “Ew, Dean, gross.”

Dean pointed at his brother. “Keep it to the bedroom Sammy. Go on, shoo, fucking, overgrown hippies.”

Cain pulled back, Sam sliding off the sink. At least Sam looked admonished, head ducked and shoulders stooped, and if the beard wasn’t in the way Dean might have thought he was blushing. Cain, however, just seemed irritated to have been interrupted. Dean scowled at their backs as they disappeared down the hall. 

He yelped when an arm circled his waist. Cas was behind him, chin hooked on his shoulder. “What was that about?”

“Caught them making out in the bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you knock first?”

“Dude the door was open. And we’ve already established, no sexy time activity - including foreplay - in any of the communal areas of the bunker.”

“But, what about that one time in the kitchen -“

“Cas, we went over this, you never ever mention that time in the kitchen again, okay, and never use anything but store bought lube.”

Cas kissed the side of his neck, a hand pushing up under his shirt.

“Hallway is communal space Cas.”

Strong hands spun him around and pinned him to the wall, gripping his waist as Cas shoved up against him, pressing their mouths together all dirty hot and pulling away just when Dean whimpered. 

“Then I guess we should take this to the bedroom.”

Dean blinked at him, seeing his hair all tousled up with sweat and his cheeks smeared with dirt, looking like he just came in from the garden, but yeah Dean was still dirty from cleaning the kitchen too. 

“You’re a dirty fucking hippy Cas, but at least your hair isn’t long enough to put in a bun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a picture on tumblr of Timothy Omundson and Jared with their hair in buns and the next thing I new it was 4:30 am and I was posting this.


End file.
